


Lost Boys

by llenclyen



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:39:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1751432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llenclyen/pseuds/llenclyen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in 1953 London, Wendy is looking for her brother Michael who has gone missing.  She pays a visit to her brother John with Lyra, then later finds Michael.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Boys

Wendy had just gotten home from the clinic and was taking off her coat when the phone rang.  
“Hello?”  
“Wendy?”  
“Father? It is so good to hear from you. I have been meaning to come by soon and-”  
“Wendy, it's Michael.”  
A cold weight crept into the pit of her stomach. Despite living in the same city, she hadn't seen Michael in over six months. The last time they had spoken he had made it quite clear he didn't want to see her. Her baby brother lived alone and didn't speak with the rest of the family except on rare occasions.  
“He went to see John, and his landlady called us. No one has seen him for days.”  
The WWII nurse trembled, took a long deep breath, and put herself back together as best she could.  
“I will go see John, maybe he has some ideas.”  
“We already went to see him.”  
“Then I'll go and retrace Michael's steps from the time he left. We will find him father.”  
“I... thank you Wendy.”  
She hung up the phone and put her coat back on. Lyra poked her head out of her room.  
“I'm coming with you.”  
“There is no need.”  
“I don't have siblings, but I have had to look for lost friends before. You need all the eyes you can get. I'm coming.”  
Wendy didn't argue.

It took over an hour to make it to the place John stayed. The lady running the facility had been reluctant to admit them, but as soon as Wendy explained the situation they were allowed in.  
“So, why is your brother here?” Ask Lyra.  
Wendy often wondered the same question. She had enlisted in the medical corp in 1942 at the age of eighteen. John and Michael were so proud, and jealous of her, but she only did it because she could not let the boys she knew from school, the orphanage she had worked at, or the young doctors who depended on their nurses, be alone. It wasn't bravery, it was just who she was. But John wasn't about to let his sister go alone. He fought with mother for a year and when he turned seventeen, two years later, she relented and gave him consent to join the RAF. He had flown dozens of successful missions, engaged the Luftwaffe multiple times, and helped to resupply Allied forces. It seemed as though the adventures with Peter had paid off as he was a brilliant pilot and had been promoted to squadron leader. He was there on D-day and had survived it, crowing at the top of his lungs. When people thought of heroes of the Great War, John Darling would have been at the top of their mind.  
Then, in April of 1945, he was shot down.  
The war ended a month later.  
Wendy was a gracious, kind soul. When the word reached her about what had happened to her brother something inside her shattered. She had seen many brave boys torn apart by artillery, burned, broken, and all but dead. She had stitched bodies back together that the trained surgeons had all but given up on. She cared for the wounded, regardless of the side they were on. But after that day, she would not touch an enemy solider or civilian. She wouldn't even speak to them. War made people do terrible things, and it darkened her soul for years afterward. Two years ago she had started to watch her behavior when addressing people from the Axis countries, and she still would not speak with anyone she knew was in the Axis military. It was her second greatest shame.  
John lived close by, all of Wendy's family did. She visited Mother and Father at least twice a month, and before he had forbade it, would try to see Michael at least once every other.  
She only saw John every three or four months.  
Her beloved brother, and she could not bear to see him.  
It wasn't the fault of all of Axis for what happened to him. Terrible things happen in wars. But she blamed them for her brother's state, and for her own guilt.  
“I wish I knew.” Wendy replied to Lyra, barely choking back a tear.  
They entered his room. It was dark but the curtain was open. The window was shut and locked.  
“Hello Wendy.”  
John's voice was rough, but still had the sophisticated air he had cultivated as a child.  
“Hello John. This is my friend Lyra.”  
Lyra looked at him and saw his daemon. Coming into the center, Lyra had seen all kinds of daemons that she would associate with proud, strong people. This was a center for veterans after all. Many of the daemons had scars from the battles they had seen. The albatross that rode on John Darling's shoulder moved stiffly and looked burned.  
“Hello Ms. Lyra, I suppose you are here to help find my brother?”  
“Yes Officer...”  
“No need for that. I am no longer part of Her Majesty's Aerial Defense.”  
“John, Lyra is like us. She has... different ways of looking for people.”  
“Oh. I see. How might I assist you?”  
Lyra pulled out the alethiometer.  
“Being here helps a lot. I've already seen a picture of your brother. So if you would both put a hand on my shoulder and think about Michael, I should have a much clearer idea of where he is.”  
“Thinking happy thoughts about Michael,” there was a dry tone to John's voice but he and Wendy complied.  
Pan climbed up Lyra's shoulders as she selected the symbols.  
“Been a while since you had to do this.”  
She said nothing. Explaining the golden compass was one thing, her daemon would be something else and she didn't have the time for it with at the moment. She would ask Wendy if she could come back though, if only to get blackmail on her friend.  
She selected her symbols, the angel, the bird, and the anchor.  
Where is Michael?  
In the eye of her mind the image came to her. She saw a man who hadn't shaved or slept in days. He had been in a fight, and probably more than one. There were people in this hospice who looked better than he did right now. There were several bottles near him and sign above that read 'Lucky Stars pub.' Lyra relayed this information to Wendy and John. There was a collective sigh from both of them, part relief, part anguish.  
“Thank you Lyra. I'll go collect him.” Said Wendy.  
John looked as if he wanted to say something, but remained silent.  
“I'd like to come with you.” Said Lyra.  
“I know, and I thank you for it, but this is something I need to do myself. I'll pay you back for the bus fare.”  
Lyra shook her head and patted Wendy on the shoulder.  
“I'd like to come back and visit you sometime if you don't mind.” She said to John.  
A sad smile crossed his lips in the darkness and Lyra saw his daemon straighten itself some.  
“I would appreciate that very much Ms. Lyra.”  
“It's just 'Lyra'.”  
“And I am just 'John'.”  
She said her goodbyes and left. Wendy clearly had family business to attend to, Lyra felt a bit left out, but she was grateful that her friend had let her in as much as she had.  
******

After Lyra left Wendy looked at John for a few silent moments.  
“I am so sorry I haven't come by more often.”  
“I know.”  
“Have you seen that movie yet?”  
“No, how is it?”  
“Dreadful. You sound like a stuffy old professor in it.”  
“Oh really, and what about you?”  
“Apparently they thought I would just go on and on about anything, and the same girl who did Alice's voice in her movie did my voice! Can you believe that?”  
“Well, it sounds like they got one thing right.”  
“John!”  
They laughed, then the tears came and Wendy hugged her brother.  
“Oh John, why did this have to happen to you?”  
He didn't respond, but he did return the hug. After a few moments she got up again, and pulled out a pouch from her coat.  
“John, you know what this is.”  
“Wendy... no.”  
“But why not? If I sprinkled this on you then you could-”  
“It would never last, and you know that. A day at best, and then I would be back where I am now.”  
“But John!”  
With one good push to the wheels of his chair he came fully into the light. His scarred face looked her dead in the eye. His crippled legs dangled uselessly.  
He had survived being shot down, but his plane burned and scarred him with it. His spine had been severed and he had lost control over the lower half of his body. Wendy couldn't bring herself to look at her brother because the broken form that she saw wasn't the boy she remembered. His voice was bitter and angry.  
“I flew in Neverland and over England. I had such complete freedom that no matter how frightening the endeavor, no matter how cacophonous the din, I was enraptured at it all. Nothing could contain me. I was a majestic bird in flight. Now look at me.”  
Wendy saw his shattered body with reluctance. Small sobs wracked her body.  
“I am ugly Wendy, an ugly bird that has lost it's wings. And I am bound to this.. this monstrous ostrich of a contraption!”  
He struck his wheelchair viciously. His arms had grown in vigor but that was the only part of his body that had. 'Ostrich' was a name he used to refer to himself and his wheelchair when he felt particularly acidic. An ugly bird that couldn't fly.  
“John I-”  
“No Wendy! No! Go and find our brother, because you can. Bring him out of whatever cavern he's fallen down. But do not ever speak to me of fairy dust again. I don't believe in it anymore.”  
A cold shiver wracked her body and she inhaled sharply. That probably wasn't enough to kill a fairy, but it was close. She steadied herself then reached out for her brother. He wheeled away from her touch.  
“John-”  
“Wendy, I will never walk again. What makes you think I have happy thoughts enough to fly?”  
Wendy pulled her hand back walked out of John's room, and made it out the door of the hospice before breaking down and sobbing.

*************

Wendy took a long time to get to the pub. She waited a small eternity before going in. What was she going to say to Michael? Ever since John had been...injured, her baby brother had changed. He had taken to drinking, and got himself into all sorts of reckless incidents. He couldn't seem to keep a job, and because he had been to young to serve no one wanted to hire him when all these boys home from the war came looking for a job. In their last talk Michael had cursed her and John, they had gotten to be heroes, and he would never have the chance.  
Both of Wendy's brothers were broken, and she could do nothing to fix them.  
With tear stained cheeks she went in.  
Through a haze of smoke and alcohol she saw her brother. He sported an ugly bruise on his jaw and was sitting hunched over the bar. Several bottles were piled up next to him and nearly half their number again in shots. The barkeep saw her eying the lost boy and nodded. She had managed to call the pub before she came to make sure that Michael was still there.  
Wendy had no idea what to say. She wanted to scream at him for being an idiot. For making her and their parents, and John worry. For ruining his life. She wanted to hold him and make the world better. Tell him stories about fighting pirates. She wanted to cry again for this shattered person that her brother had become.  
But none of that was going to work. Not if she wanted to get him home and safe.  
She walked over to the bar and sat down. He looked up with bleary eyes at her.  
“Wendy?”  
“Hello Michael.”  
An eon passed before he spoke again.  
“You can't make me go home.”  
“You're right.”  
She couldn't fight him. She didn't want to. He would run away and never let her in again if this became an argument. She had once had to operate on a solider who has brought in a grenade. The staff were terrified, but they managed, by simply talking to the man, to allow them to do their work. She dared not force her brother. What had brought this on? What had hurt him so badly? Was it just the visit to John? Growing up, Michael had adored both of his siblings, but especially John. Now his big brothers was in that place and...No she couldn't go there, not now. Michael was here now, this was the brother who needed her. After another lifetime he spoke again.  
“I was at Felixstowe a few weeks ago.”  
Wendy sat upright as if she had been stabbed. Michael had been there? When the North Sea flooded it had been bad in London but out there...  
“I had volunteered. Thought I could make a difference...”  
“Michael-”  
“I couldn't do anything. Their homes were gone, their lives, the weeping... people died there Wendy.”  
Her little brother was crying. He had gone out and stupidly tried to be a hero, as if he needed to prove anything to her, or John, and it had wrecked him.  
“Michael I-”  
“No Wendy. You and John, you did something. You could have done something. But not me. I'm an utter failure! I can't fly like you, I can't save anyone! I'm just your little brother and nothing more.”  
She held him as he wept, and by inches was able to coax him out of the pub. He was dead tired by the time she got him to his flat. She took off his shoes and tucked him in. She phoned their parents and John to tell them that Michael had been found. Mother would be out to see him tomorrow.  
Hours had passed since she had left. Her flatmates were silent, and it was late. The weariness and anguish fell on her like lead weights. She turned on the lamp in her room and pulled out her book.  
It was titled 'Lost Boys'.  
The pages were filled with many names. The boys from the orphanage where she used to volunteer who hadn't found homes, ran away, or went missing. The soldiers who had come through her various clinics who hadn't made it, or whose minds or lives were shattered and mutilated beyond all recognition. The ones who had gone missing. The lost boys of Neverland. There was even a few names of people who had been in her clinic when the North Sea had flooded and from the train accident before.  
James Monroe  
William Hoage  
Tristian LeMaster  
Peter Pan  
Her brothers  
All of them were lost boys. Her brothers and Peter each had their own page. Others had a few names with what information she could gather. Pictures, rank, who they left behind. It was up to her to carry on who they were.  
The sorrow and despair came as it always did when she looked through the book. She saw the faces of her brothers. As they once were, when they were her brothers, not the shells that had taken their place.  
No. This was wrong. She didn't want to be here anymore. To carry on when there was only death, and pain, and sadness in this world. Peter had been right. Growing up was no blessing. But Neverland was for the young. You could forget in Neverland, and never grow up. She threw open the windows to the March sky. It was cold and clear, it would be an easy night to fly. She could see the second star to right. She pulled out the bag of pixie dust and sprinkled some on her. She thought of Neverland, of her brothers when they were all younger, of fighting Captain Hook, of picnics. She opened her eyes.  
She was still as firmly on the floor as if she were made of cement.  
“No.” She said, her voice frantic. “No, this is not my home, this is not my life. They are not my brothers! My brothers are happy, and smile all the time! This is not my life!”  
With a scream of desperation she emptied the bag on herself and thought of John and Michael's smiles, of Peter, of anything but London. Again her body seemed made of stone.  
She screamed and cried venting her sorrow for all the world to hear.  
“No! No! No! I don't want this! Take me back! Fly me off to Neverland! I don't want to grow up! Peter! Tinkerbell! Please bring me to Neverland! Please! You dammed, bloody, ageless boy! Take me back!”  
She screamed until she had no more voice and cried till she had no more tears, but there was no sign of the ever young Pan or his pixie. She collapsed in a heap at her window sill, sobs coursing through her breast. There was nothing for her here. Her brothers were both hollow, her book just kept getting thicker, and she was never going to be free again. Her flatmates always looked to her to settle disputes and Dr. Watson was always asking her advice in the clinic and Sherlock was always bullying him and...  
Wendy felt a subtle lightness and saw that she was about six inches off the floor. Her hovering was wobbly, and by no means was is as strong as it had been, but it was there. Her breathing slowed and she cleaned her face, and then the pixie dust wore off. It was never meant for grown ups. Wendy hung her head. She so wanted to go off to Neverland once again and feel the wind on her face, to be carefree. But she would never be able to face herself again. She could not abandon her friends like that. She was ashamed of what she had tried to do, and now she had no way back unless Peter himself came. She closed the window, save just a crack, and crawled into her bed.


End file.
